Blank Maps
by MessengerOfDreams
Summary: During reconstruction efforts in the homelands, Jess monitors a friendly enemy as they discover the price of a miracle, one that could heal their nations at all cost. The road maps she builds through Green Earth slowly become dictated by a world changing faster than they can comprehend, but perhaps there is a human touch after all. Post-DS.
1. Outsourcing

**Finally, after four years, I'm finally writing a story with Jess from Advance Wars. It's always been one of my goals to take the abandoned no-one-gives-a-damn section that started me off and give it something longer, a story worth reading, starring a character that has always been a random favorite in our favorite artillery-carrying resupplying redheaded tank commander. **

**This came from a short story, that is now a longer story, which may finish between 20-30k words, which would be a new record for me to be honest. At the very least, it matches Paradigms. For the same low-coverage game that barely anyone cares about, where this story will sit for months before a new page is started. **

**It's lonely here. Send some love. I'm gonna keep working on this.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, regret nothing, and let them forget nothing, but seeing as no one posts here, you won't have to remember- I'll always be front page!**

**I need a smoke.**

Can't say what exactly I need one for. No more war. No more drama. Not much of anything. I feel like I've got it together overall. No drinking problems, no broken relationships (not hard to avoid going down from zero), no abysmal spending habits, and certainly no caving in and buying a pet. I remember going through a pack a day when we were finishing up the Omega Ruins conflict. So at least I've pared it down to two or three cigs a day. Even then, that's too much, I feel. I really should stop. The smoke smells like the ruins of a bloody battlefield, where there was more smoke than Earth. I think the only reason I need them is because when I was a teenager someone convinced me it was what the cool kids did.

I look up from the desk and lock my computer for the time being. I can trust my fellow Green Earth commanders not to get into my shit, but I can't trust everyone. Hell, even then the person I'm worried about could hack into it faster than I could light up even if I set up a novel as my password, so I don't know why I bother. An ounce of prevention, I guess.

Besides, if she hasn't yet, she probably won't now. Not much to see that she doesn't already know.

I tell Eagle, "I'm gonna have a smoke." He doesn't even look up from his desk, just waving me off. Typical Eagle, but I've come to expect it. I wave back derisively, preparing to leave.

Drake, on the other hand, looks up at me as though he's just remembered something. "Jess, m'lass, before you head out, I meant to ask you about that road plan. How far along have you gotten?"

I close my eyes. Truth be told, I have made minimal progress on the road map today. I think I've gotten lax with time, although war will take a lot out of you. Before I can admit my shortcomings, Drake continues. "Oh! Never you mind, I got your email. Looks as spit-shined as a sub's surface just skimming it. Great work."

I know I must look like a fawn in the eyes of a tank brigade, but I nod cordially- probably more like I've been uppercut, in retrospect, but the intention was there- and I look towards the door. Drake shouts back, "take care!" I give him a genial wave, but I still head towards the door before he can ask me to do anything else. I think my work ethic also needs a spit-shine if it's scraping that of a self-absorbed teenager temp.

Speaking of which.

I open the door and climb the final set of utility stairs. The stairwell ends at a door, no alternate path available. Perfect. Just where I need to be. I open the door and head outside onto the HQ's rooftop. To absolutely no surprise, there she is on the balcony edge, perilously sitting above all of Smaragd City, typing like a madman on her laptop hooked up to little more than company wi-fi. Well, that, and probably everything with a technological pulse in a five-block radius.

At the very least, she's good at what she does.

"About time," she says, not even looking up. "I was getting bored."

"Around the time you start doing other peoples' work, I get the feeling."

As I take a seat next to her, she finally looks up, her unkempt spiky afro bobbing with her and nearly taking my eye out. "To be fair, you weren't doing your work either," she replies, sticking her tongue out with all of the maturity I expected out of her.

"Stay classy, Lash."

"Stay boring, Jess."

Our dynamic was forged as soon as I tried to teach her table manners. I'd not had any more involving a companion than a labrador, but I was the only one who figured that talking to our former enemy might make them more liable to be on our side, so I tried to help endear her to others. Needless to say, endearing Lash to others is not how you work with Lash. From there on, I saw her as the chaos child with a strained upbringing as a war horse, and she saw me as General Stuffybritches, murderer of all things fun and unique.

I guess you could say we've reached an understanding.

I reach into my suit pocket and pull out the cigarettes. Lash sticks her tongue out again; not out of defiance, but out of disgust. "Yuck," she vocalizes. "I forgot about that."

I shrug, not paying her complaints mind, mostly because I get enough of it from myself. I light up and she scurries away so swiftly I'm surprised she didn't fall off the building. She covers her face like a gas mask and complains, "let me know when you're done. Ick."

I take a drag. "At least the cigarette has a filter."

"Hardy har," I hear through her cupped hands. Her eyes, as expressive as ever, look poised to stab me in the hands. Her laptop is still on the balcony, untouched and unsecured. I have half a mind to tell her to take care of that before it falls over, but I decide to finish my cigarette first. As I smoke, the evening air brushes the side of my face, as if to compensate for the unrefined raw feeling in this old, tired throat of mine.

Knowing Lash is still looking on in impatience and abhorrence, I make sure to take an extra long drag for my final performance, exhaling smoke into the air like a wolf howling at the moon. It works. Lash giggles, slapping her forehead. "You're such a loser."

I extinguish my cigarette with my boot. "I could be in the circus with an act like that."

"You're not entirely boring after all," she admits, uncupping her mouth. "You're just a total nerd."

I return to the balcony on the near side of the computer. Speaking of. "I'm pretty sure someone who hacked my computer to do my work for the fun of it has no right to call someone a nerd." Before she nearly leaps the distance between us, I pick up the computer. Immediately her pupils dilate from a look of sheer terror, and she lunges for the computer. "Relax," I insist. "I'm not gonna cheat ya. I just want to see what you've done with my work."

Being distracted by my smoke was enough to make me forget to consider the consequences of having Lash try and do intricate planning. Her responsibility was to fix Smaragd's frayed technological infrastructure, but that's a job that relies on the speed of structural rebuilding. Lash has the know-how, but she alone can't move mountains, so that leads to her skulking the halls of our current HQ, an irritable gypsy in a land whose citizens still don't forget that she was once a participant in its destruction; a puppet with the illusion of free will who only knew how to break things. Eagle certainly hasn't forgotten, and try as Drake might to be cordial to our guest consultant, there's definitely an air of unease around him as well.

It's a good thing I had my smoke, because the idea makes me anxious just thinking about it, and Lash snatching away the computer with such force she nearly knocks me off the building to retrieve it is no help. A little clicking and scrambled typing commences before she hands the computer back to me. It appears as though Lash has a secret. Being Lash, it's likely nothing too universe-threatening seeing as she lured me out here in the first place, and being Lash, it's likely that I will never find out as long as I live.

Regardless, I let her guide me through the road plan.

"Trust me, chica, terrain is my thing," she says, not unlike many technological pitchmen I've watched videos of in the past. "Techy stuff is good but believe it or not I'm a nature chick at heart. Give me an empty society and I'll build a city in a day. Down here in the south peak, a lot of the highways were run through the mountain ranges, not around. But the bright side to having bombs thrown all over the place is that it leaves a lot of good flatland to rebuild along. So you're welcome for that."

I roll my eyes. "We are forever in your debt." She bristles- although it could just be her afro I'm feeling again- but doesn't clam up. I hope she knows that I mean it as a joke.

She resumes her routine. "Anyway, nothing terraforms the Earth like brutal conquestial war. Because of that, when you rebuild, you don't consider where the old roads were. If they're gone and the places they went are gone, who cares. Take the new Earth and build new roads to build new cities with. Leave some of the old roads alone for now. They're archaic. Old news. Let forests and nature take its place. Maybe help it out a bit, but who knows? I think by the fact that we humans are so damn war-like we've told nature we don't deserve this. It's better on its own anyways."

Something's off in that idea. "Lash, we didn't destroy Green Earth. That's far against the point."

Lash wrinkles her nose. "Minor technicalities. I'm talking big picture."

"No, you see," I continue in the faint hopes of getting my point across. "Green Earth is still our land. We didn't do anything to lose it. We were trying to defend all the broken roads that you guys were blowing up. That's why you guys lost. Are you blanking on that?"

She puts her hands up. "Look, I'm just trying to explain my way to help out, okay? You don't need to get hung up on semantics. I'm not giving a lect-"

Ugh. "But we're doing this the Green Earth way, okay? Not the Lash way. I drove through these roads for years with my unit, so trust me. You're-"

"I'm not doing it the Lash way! I'm trying to give you a plan, cause Lord knows you weren't coming up with-"

"I've lived here all my life," I explain sternly, trying to end the argument. "I've been in the army since I was legal. I think I know a bit about being in Green Earth, so take my word for this."

"Then why did you have me help you?" Great, she's shouting now.

"I didn't ask for your help on the roads!" I shout back. Good game, Jess.

"Fine!" she shouts, slamming the computer shut and storming away with it. "You freakin' do it! Take that jack-crap knowledge of yours and put it to use! Try and make more than a few roads an hour!"

"That I will," I fire back, watching her throw open the door back downstairs. It slams behind her, cutting off the echo of her boots clanking down the concrete stairs. I sigh and light another smoke. I thought I knew I was getting myself into. I thought I could control the daft girl. Turns out that I am still not very good with people.

I light another smoke and stare down at the city. If you look closely enough, it seems proper. The buildings look solid, as if nothing had ever gone wrong in Green Earth's capital. Just don't look too far out- that's when reality sets in. Blotches of colorless dirt where people used to live; torn up buildings that have yet to be magically reconstructed, and a boundary far more constricting than what once was here. The city used to be endless, but nothing lasts forever.

Seeing the smoke above the city brings back enough sordid memories that should make me want to vomit just thinking about them, but it's all desensitized me to the point where I fear I wouldn't react if one of the buildings was lit on fire. I think the only thing that scares me anymore is the fact that nothing else scares me anymore.

**~MoD~**

"Jess, can I have a word with you, if you'd be so kind?"

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Drake caught on with little effort the source of the road map. He turns the screen to me as I walk in, snuffing my smoke in a nearby ashtray. I begin to explain myself, saying "I honestly didn't know what happened until it was too late."

He nods. Eagle gives a sideways glance to both of us, much more eager to listen than to participate. Drake points to the screen, clicking on one of the smaller roads. An informational bubble pops up, revealing the name. I smirk, and Eagle's eyebrow arches as he reads it.

"Can't fault her for her message," I admit.

Eagle sneers. "Perhaps that's why you don't have a child do an adult's work."

"Meanwhile you are employed quite handily here," I fire back.

Drake puts his hand up to prevent yet another bout of bickering from between the two of us. "It's easily fixable; I'd just rather not christen one of our thoroughfare the _Eagle's Testicles Memorial Highway._"

They might not, but I let it go. Eagle again complains. "That girl has the poise of a wounded frog. Remind me why we trust her with anything, Red?"

Drake cuts in before I say something that would curtail any bloodthirst. "Eagle, we've been over this. I don't think Javier is much of a captain for technological work, and Sonja is clearly occupied with Yellow Comet. Lash is our only option. It's risky work, but beggars can't be choosers."

I nod. "Precisely."

"However," Drake continued, "I think I might need to give her a talk about not trying to do others' work for them. Even if it is a genuine attempt to help, and given this is Lash I shan't say, a helmsman is little good in the crow's nest."

I nod again. "We'd gotten into this a bit after my smoke. I tried to convince her that it was too skeletal for the country. She saw otherwise, but I believe she'll be too stubborn to help any further."

"That'd be beneficial," Drake says. "We need to stick to what we know. There's a reason I'm not examining air traffic, after all." I begin to walk back to my desk, hearing him finish with, "I trust your judgment to make these roads perfect moreso than Lash's, so don't worry about her."

"Your judgment for outsourced work leaves much to be desired, however," Eagle can't prevent himself from adding. I'd fire back, but in some ways, I can't help but admit he has a point. I slip my headphones on and prepare to start fixing what was fudged with, only to find that the entire map was wiped completely clean except for one main thoroughfare- a straight line from here to Brahm's Port, which I vaguely remember being where my forces sunk Lash's battleship brigade. I click it, my bewildered expression staring me down in the thin reflection of the computer.

"This whole map needs a fresh start. Here you go. Do it right. Nerd."

Joy to the world, the Lord has come. I'm having to start from day zero.

I hold my head in my hands. Fantastic. This is my reward for tangling with a madwoman. From our very first interaction I knew in the back of my head what this glass half shattered could do to me. I just didn't expect her to actually do it.


	2. Miracle Grow

I don't get home until half past midnight, and I've only now restored what I lost. Although it's hard to call this home: even a four-star hotel I've reserved during our time here in Smaragd still feels as sterile and blank as the map I was left with. I throw my jacket off onto my bed, undo my tie, kick my boots off, strip my work pants off, and leave myself in a pair of shorts in a tank top, not caring to do anything more than that. I pop a leftover TV dinner in the microwave and flip on the TV.

It has been far too long since I've committed to a TV show, seeing as a three-year gap of being occupied in war can derail you from several of your favorite serials. The late night talk shows have ended, and they matter little to me since I've been so far removed from pop culture. The only thing I know I have any vested interest in is the news, and this 24/7 news station the only channel this TV has been on.

I tune out through most of it. I've landed through the movies and celebrities portion of things. None of the movies particularly interest me, considering it's the middle of January. My TV dinner finishes microwaving, and as I grab it I hear something that interests me.

"A strange new development has appeared in Orange Star," a newscaster says. "Just north of Verdant, a former national park has miraculously sprung back to life."

I stand with my dinner, giving a quizzical look to the TV. Now that's just silly.

She insists on continuing. "Lockley Range was one of the many places in the nation that was left tarnished in the Macro conflict between Black Hole. Crew members have been working on reforestation, but in an alarming twist, this afternoon found the entire forest not only decades ahead in restoration, but even more lively than ever. The nation plans to make scientific advances on discovering the source of this anomaly, while keeping on guard for any more surprise developments."

I still don't quite believe it. I take my TV dinner and set it on the nightstand, immediately whipping my cellphone out and searching up Lockley Range. The news links for the development are overwhelming, so I click one at random. In the article it confirms everything I've just heard, including some images. It's been awhile since I've seen a good movie, but I'm astonished that this isn't a special effect. The trees are gargantuan, and the mountains lush.

I finally tear my eyes away from it in order to read. I already knew it was a battleground used in the first true Black Hole conflict that I was involved in. I didn't know that leading the charge was Sami, who was fighting against…

...oh.

I can't tell if things make more sense or less sense, and I also don't know how I'm getting any sleep tonight.

~MoD~

I walk into the HQ with a portable mug of coffee at seven in the morning. I'm downing it like a car running out of fuel as I walk into the elevator, punching in the number. I barely slept at all last night; at one point giving up and doing all the research I could on Lockley Range. I'm still slightly groggy and dazed, but my throat can handle the coffee being dumped down like a bad drink, so I inject myself with it in large gulps, not minding the heat.

I get to my floor and walk to my desk, placing the mug down. I realize that I have no clue how effective my work will be if I have to put up with random terraforming. It'd be useless to construct roads when I have to wait on the world to change. Not much else to do but wait.

I look around the room and see that Eagle is here, already nose-deep in his work. I wave him down, and he takes his headphones off. "Can I help you, Red?"

I keep my distaste on my tongue. "Eagle, have you heard about the incident in Lockley Range over on Orange Star? It's well worth a read."

He nods. "I've heard back from sources about it. No signs as to what the inciting incident was."

I know that's code for "my girlfriend is texting me about it but I'm trying to appear productive" but I brush it off. "Lockley Range was a battle site between Sami and Lash. Any information we can get on what happened there could be useful. I think it could tie in with Lash's bizarre behavior."

"The only bizarre behavior Lash could show is if she were to act normal," Eagle points out.

"Agreed," I admit, "but in particular the incidents around the road map. If the terraforming continues, it'd make sense to plan the road maps around it."

Eagle nods, slumping into his chair. I let him do whatever he's doing as I fire up the map, trying to make some sense of things. As I open the map, I hear him mumble, "goddamn it."

I turn towards him. "What's up?"

Eagle looks away, but I can tell he's embarrassed. "Nothing, it's just… concern. That we're finally building something up again and something risks tearing it all asunder."

I understand, but I don't respond, because I was the one who took the risk of bringing Lash here. I'm the one who put such unwarranted trust as to give her the power she now has. Whatever happens from here on out to Green Earth could very well be my fault, and that's ammunition I refuse to give someone I know I can't trust with my fears.

The map opens up. The road in the center is still there, and thankfully the rest of it is still here, but the road to Brahm's Port sticks out to me. I recall it being the last remaining line, but I'm not sure why. The only thing that immediately hits me is how it leads directly to one of the only battle sites that I was part of, during the battleship fight-

Wait.

Oh, for fuck's sake, Jess.

I lock my computer and look for that damned girl. I don't bother explaining to Eagle, letting my clomping footsteps slam against the carpet to deliver my message. I cross the office hallway and run down a flight of stairs to find Lash's office. The door's not locked, so I barge in.

No reaction. No swerving around, no shriek of surprise, not even the faint sound of typing. All to see is a normal office cubicle with her laptop hooked up to several computer towers like an accident victim hooked up to a myriad of hospital tubes. I fear that were I to lay a hand on it it would be scalded off by one of Lash's many inventions, but my curiosity overpowers my rationality, and I move the mousepad.

Predictably, the password screen shows up. That's the end of that. I wonder if there's a way I could get underneath the computer's skin, give Lash a taste of her own medicine. Not sure what else to do, I take my cellphone out and snap a low-res picture of it. The flash is overpowering and I have to blink it away.

That's when the door creaks open. I hear Lash's voice in all its crackly glory call out "what the hell?!" I turn around just in time to get slapped in the face. It doesn't hurt as much as it stuns me.

She continues to accost me. "What are you doing in here?" Her voice raises to a shriek as she slams her laptop shut. "I can't believe you were messing with my stuff! You're just the worst, I swear to God. I thought Eagle was bad enough, but now you're in here trying to spy on me?" She yanks the computer up and storms out of the room, trenchcoat soaring behind her like a cape. "If you can't even trust me that much then I'll just leave then!"

She shoves open the door, prompting me to act. I don't know how to deal with a teenager's temper tantrums, especially not a teenager like Lash, but my patience has been wired thin. I grab her by her coat, yanking her back sharply. She yelps, falling back dramatically like a rubber band. I spin her around to face me.

"Now what?" she whines.

"Now you tell me about Lockley Ridge."

I thought Lash was pale, but she managed to blanch nearly translucent at the sound of Lockley Ridge. "I heard about that," is vaguely what she says, give or take enough stammering to gnaw human bone in half. "But what does that have to do with me?"

"Your past battlefields. Freak botanical growths. Your love of nature interfering with my work. The fact that you are as easy to read as blank paper."

She looks around for salvation that doesn't exist. "Whatever. Fine." I let her go, and she goes to put her computer back, before turning around and saying, "what does it matter anyway? It's helping. It's making things better. What do you even care anyway?"

"I'm your manager, Lash," I fire back with an answer more rehearsed than honest. "I need to know everything you're doing. I've got my counterparts breathing down my neck because of everything that's going on. I can't help you if you don't help us."

For the first time in possibly her entire life, Lash is quiet. She's not even typing. Still, her nonverbal communication is loud and clear. She turns back to the computer, not plugging it back into the towers. She's just standing there, breathing deeply, looking for something she can't quite find.

Finally, she's got her ultimatum. "I'll show you how it happens. Only you." She stands up, becoming animated again as she rants. "But if you leak this stuff to anyone without my okay, I swear to God, I'm out. And not just out of here, you'll never freakin' see me again, and you'll be so far in the dark ages even Javier's gonna feel it. Capiche?"

Before I can weigh the pros and cons, I nod. She nods back, immediately taking her computer and leaving the room. "Meet me downstairs," she orders. I didn't expect our working relationship to lead to me following her instructions, but I tell myself it's for the good of Green Earth, not just my innate curiosity. The problem is that I'm a horrible liar.


	3. Day Trip

An hour later finds us sitting in my truck, GPS leading to Lash's specifications, music playing from the radio, and two cups of coffee only freshly in the cupholder- hers something that resembles a milkshake with a mile of whipped cream, frilly chocolate circles, and pink filling, mine a steaming cup of black coffee. She's got her legs crossed in front of her, typing on her computer and occasionally taking large gulps from her drink, and I'm staring straight ahead as we drive on one of the few remaining backwoods highways in Green Earth, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to an old CD I found in the car.

You could almost mistake us for friends.

I look out the windows, since there's barely any traffic. Trees are intermittent, and every third building we pass in the hinterlands is either hollowed out or blown to bits. Many crossing roads are more dirt, tread marks, and disruptive turmoil than actual black strips of pavement with yellow lines. It's hard not to look at my passenger with derision for her involvement in the whole fiasco, but my vitriol, as confined as it may be, has always been aimed at Hawke. Many of the COs from Black Hole were either social rejects given power, or young people like Lash who were born impressionable in a world of chaos. From the very first moments I knew Hawke, he was competent, self-aware, powerful, and above all, self-serving. Even when he moved from enemy lines to allies, I never was convinced that he was acting on anything more than survival instincts, one of the few emotions I was convinced he contained, until his mind broke and he stayed to die in Von Bolt's citadel.

If I restrain my pride, I can look past Lash, because I'm next to her as she seat-jams to my Fleetwood Mac album even though she prior called it old-people music. She's a child. Hawke knew what he was doing, and all I knew is that he was productive at it. Even if I don't bleed as green as someone like Eagle, who had half-a-mind to throw Hawke off of a transport copter even as he worked to restore Omega Ruins, he was the enemy. Not Black Hole, not Sturm. Hawke was the one who almost singlehandedly had us at our knees. Everything we work to rebuild is because of him.

So wrapped up in my thoughts I am that I hit a bump in the road, sending everything up in the air. Lash yelps, the coffee lid pops off and stains my seat, and I hit my head on the roof of the car. "Damn it," I groan. "Sorry about that."

Lash shrugs. "My coffee's fine. Don't know about yours."

I pay it no mind, taking a sip, as if one sip will immediately restore me to full energy despite going off of less sleep than I normally regimented. Lash looks at it with disgust. "I never got how Hawke drinks liquid tar like that," she says. Immediately, I bristle at his name, but do my best to ignore it. "If it doesn't have, like, explosive taste, then it's not worth drinking as far as I care."

"Eh." I brush my tension off by humoring her. "It's fuel. Gets you through the day."

"Like your smokes."

I nod, not bothering to indulge her look of overdramatic disgust. I focus back on the music again for a short time until I reevaluate Lash's comment about Hawke.

"Drinks?" I ask as innocuously as an interrogator.

She becomes so pale that her veins nearly turn neon. "Oh…" she says, in the way that a teenager caught with a secret has.

"Care to explain?" I ask as sweetly as my mother would after I threw rocks at my neighbor's cat.

"I dunno," she admits, looking down. "Like… I guess I'm just hopeful. He's… probably dead, whatever. But, like… maybe he got away. I don't think I saw him die, and I have, like, a bajillion theories, so…"

"I understand," I answer as if I actually mean it.

She swallows, and shuts the computer. "Kind of wish I did, though."

"Did what?"

"Saw him die. Just get it over with."

"Oh," I breathe, and this time it's genuine.

Before we can get bogged down in emotional bullshit, though, you add, "but like I said, I have theories. And who knows, maybe they're right. Speaking of theories, how long til we get there?"

You spit that out so fast that I'm not even sure what you said until I play it back in my head, turning down the radio so I can hear it replay. "Oh. If the GPS is right, we're almost there."

"Ooh, neato." She perks up and looks out the window. "It's about time."

I look at the GPS. It still reads "Brahm's Port" with all that the intents imply. I haven't been to the actual bay in ages, and I only vaguely remember the land around it I sent my tank brigade through to destroy a batch of unmanned, unarmed battleships. It all looks similar to the semi-ruined state it was left in, the reconstruction money still working its way upstate. We exit another hamlet on the south side of things, hitting another streak of hinterland plains. It looks as normal and barren as usual, until…

"Look at that!" she squeals, pointing straight ahead.

I look up from the road at the surroundings. "Holy shit."

I pull the car to a stop right between two lush patches of grass that obstruct the tan plains. Like mystified children, we climb out, Lash hopping out of the truck onto her feet. Through the landscape I can already see the saplings of trees and the stems of newly blooming flowers amid miles of pure grass. To be honest, I never thought I'd see the day. Even the weeds are growing back in, albeit sporadically. I suppose even the pariahs of nature deserve their fair share.

Between a few flowers I can already see the dandelions peeking their heads, covered in fragile seeds that even today I'd like to believe still hold a wish in them. Then again, there are many things I'd like to do, but that doesn't make them possible. Lash is busy diving into the grass like a happy dog, scampering around in the knee-deep grass with glee. She's taking it all in and here I am staring at one dandelion out of what already have to be thousands. It's a strange flower to consider a favorite, but perhaps it's the beauty in the mundane that I see, that I've lost. I want to pick it out of the ground and relive some childhood nostalgia, but I can't bring myself to tamper with it. If I tamper with it, it could reveal itself to be another distant dream.

Lash finally crawls out of the grass, covered in loose green plantlife. "What do you think?" she asks, grinning like a student who knows she's getting an A. "Isn't it freakin' awesome?"

I nod as she brushes off her trenchcoat and shakes foliage out of her hair. "It's amazing. How did this happen?"

She blinks. "Well, like I said, I have some theories, but even then I'm not sure. I actually don't have much of a clue what's going on and I'm certainly not behind it. Wish I was, that'd be awesome. I just know an act of God when I see one."

"I thought you were a scientist."

"I'm a realist. Science just happens to fall into realism ninety-five percent of the time. And this is, like, the other five percent."

I nod. "Yeah. I just wonder who God is in this scenario."

Lash shrugs, but I can tell it's not as nonchalant as she thinks. "I don't know. All I know is that I just want to make sure whatever this is gets to do what it needs to. Like… that's why I messed with the road map. And that's why I've been acting kind of funny. I didn't plan this. I wish I did. It just… happened. It happened where I used to make the opposite happen. And as weird as it sounds, especially from me, I really want this to happen."

I put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs me off, forcing a smile. "But yeah, this is pretty much it. I knew it happened in Lockley, I heard it was happening here. I just thought I'd show you that this is the real deal."

"This barely feels real to me, though."

For once in her life, Lash is quiet, looking off into the distance. We spend a good amount of time completely silent, the sun rising in the sky and the plant life growing at an alarming rate that still didn't feel fast enough. The grass slowly spreads across the nothingness, the flowers bloom in slow motion, and the trees go through years of time in merely an hour. It's bizarrely spiritual.

"Never thought I'd actually enjoy watching grass grow," I admit some amount of time later.

Lash giggles. "I know right?" Reluctantly, she turns away and says, "but we should kick it. We got reconstruction to do, right?" Before I answer, she's hopped into the truck, hoisting herself up into it. That seems to be that, and if Lash is going to have the right attitude about it, I'm with her. I walk to my side of things and hop in, starting the car. The coffee is cold as I take a sip, and Lash's is a bizarre concoction of melted leftovers, but she guzzles it down anyway.

I start the car and go straight ahead. Lash looks confused, asking "aren't we heading back?"

I nod. "I'm just looping around."

And I do, about an hour later, after driving through the entirety of Brahm's Port, finally as green as the Green Earth I remember. As we return to reality I wipe my eyes before Lash sees that I'm crying, but the road ahead still looks blurry, and I can't tell if that's because everything looks depressingly the same or if I wish I'd never left.


	4. United Nations

"You know we're going to have to talk about this, right?"

Lash stops singing _Go Your Own Way _and looks at me. "Like, what do you mean? They know, right?"

"Eagle mentioned he'd heard about it," I tell her, "but not specifics."

Lash snorts. "I'll say. Live-chatting your girlfriend's not a super scientific source." I glare at her, but I can't hide the smirk. She giggles, saying "someone's gotta check up on him."

"You're telling me."

She fakes a vomit. "Seriously. Like, all I actually gathered between chatspeak and gooey heart emoticons was that apparently it's spreading to other fight sites. That place the first factory was is practically a botanical paradise."

"So it's calculated."

"Yepper. Specifically the spots from the Macro conflict. Then it spreads from there."

"What do you mean 'spreads?'"

Lash squirms so much even in my seat I feel it. "What do you mean, what do you mean?"

"I mean, do you think this will get out of hand?"

"Well…" Lash shrugs. "Honestly, I don't know. But I'd rather overcompensate than go too small. You know, getting machetes and hacking it down a bit will be easier than planting and waiting."

"Ideally," I say, and the silence lingers with the implications. In my head, I try and think of how to handle this, but it's hard to combat something you don't quite understand. I can only think of one way to research this, but it's a bit cumbersome and relies on a friend I haven't talked to in awhile.

Someone who can barely use a phone, at that.

I make a mental note to give them a call. For now, I tell Lash, "I'd like to bring the commanding officers together to talk about things. You need to be completely honest about all that you know. That includes the incomplete details. Even if it sounds silly. Even if it's painful to share. Even if you're scared. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right."

Lash nods. "Yep. Sounds about right." She's silent for nearly a minute and says, "you know, I can't tell if this whole reconstruction business is super easy or really hard."

I force a smile, but I can feel the solemnity as I move. "I'd say it's both."

**~MoD~**

I'm sitting at the desk, transferring the road plan to an updated map that better tracks the growth. Heavy forest topography now covers the area around Brahm's Port, and every time I think about updating it I realize that the area changes by the day. It's enough to make me leave it alone and pull out my cellphone to make my first call.

As expected, Javier picks it up, his voice distant. "Fair maiden?"

"Wrong way," I speak into the cellphone, and likely into his slack-jawed mouth. Leave it to the master of Comm Towers to not know how to use a rotary phone.

"Oh! But of course!" Some audible fidgeting and five seconds pass before I hear him. "Sincerest apologies," he returns, too close for comfort. "This is still taking some adjustment. I most certainly had no access to witchcraft like this during my upbringing."

I chuckle despite myself. "Don't get worked up about it. I just wanted you to do me a favor."

"Anything for you, madame!"

My amusement turns to endearment despite myself. "Don't be a doofus," I tell him, but I know he can't help himself. The guy's a teddy bear in a suit of armor. "I just wanted to know if you've heard about the recent anomaly with the plant life going on."

"Rumors have spread up here," he explains, "but I daresay even I, as a faithful Christian man, have been skeptical about the idea. I've yet to get any specifics on it, as the newspapers have not made their way up here in ages."

I shake my head. He has a row of technicians with computers in the base camp up there. "Understandable," I lie. "In the meantime, I'd like you to keep an eye out." I quickly rack through my mind for battle sites, but it's not until I look over at Eagle, who still seems too preoccupied with his computer to be doing actual work on it, that I remember the battle site of Adder's four laser cannons. "How far are you away from the Sademara region at this point?"

"Just a few moments of your patience…" And with that, I sit here in near silence save only Javier spending a good minute rummaging around for and then unfolding his map. I find myself humming _Go Your Own Way _while I wait. "Ah!" he says. "We seem to be only seven miles south. If you fancy, I will send a few troops up there."

"I'd appreciate that," I tell him. "If you happen to have any visually recording technology…" I pause. "Never mind, I forgot who I was asking."

"Ah, but madame, that's where you've erred!" he interrupts. "I believe one of my younger lieutenants has one of those modern phones that has a video recorder on it. I don't see where the recorder is- it strikes me as being a rather bulky addition- but I can ask him to loan his service to the cause."

I shake my head, but I'm smiling like a fool. "That'd be excellent. In the meantime?"

"Yes?"

"I'd appreciate it if you kept in touch with the HQ back in Smaragd."

"Consider it a humble service well worth keeping. Take care, madame."

"Later, Javier."

I smile and hang up. Even if it's rarely too in-depth due to our radically different upbringings, a talk with Javier is always a good way to lift the spirits. I settle back into observing the road map uselessly until I hear Drake's voice.

"Jess, it's high tide for the crew meeting."

"Oh." I almost forgot about it, despite being the one who set it up. "Everyone's ready?"

"Can't say, I just noticed the time, but they should be. I also invited a few other special guests that could be of use in the meantime, just to make sure we have solid perspective on things."

I smile, knowing full well what he means. "Had I known they were coming, I'd've baked a cake."

"I'd be serving drinks," he adds as I walk along with him, "but I fear I might find a highway named after my habits if I drink around my peers again."

I laugh at the idea, but make a mental note to check the names of all the roads later on. "The intersection of Alcoholic Drake and Can't Bake for Shit Jess is where I'd build a damn cabin at."

We reach the room. Opening the door to the old war room, I'm immediately greeted by Grit, who finishes off a smoke into the ashtray and waves quickly, a cane next to his seat. I take the seat next to him, immediately comfortable. I look across the table surrounded by maps of the Allied Nations and see Eagle lounging just to the side of Drake's seat at the head of the table. Along the side, I see Jake, who looks enviously energetic as he always does, and Sonja, who has not ceased to be an unmovable statue of a woman since the last time I saw her. Finally, huddled three empty chairs away from everyone else is Lash, who uses her trenchcoat as shelter from the peering eyes of everyone who isn't looking at her. Drake bounds to the seat at the head of the table, sitting down and smiling as warmly as he can manage.

"My fellow captains, it's a pleasure to invite you over to our station," he says. The rest of us nod politely- I don't know why I am, I practically live in this building. "I wish I could make you more comfortable, but this is of short notice concerning a very bizarre matter, so I hope you don't mind."

Grit nudges me, handing me a cigarette and the lighter. Talk about a man who knows the way to my heart. I take it, kicking his leg softly as I light up. He winces, and I remember, so I apologize. He chuckles, brushing it off

"Figured this was some unreal stuff," Jake says, wrapping his headphones around his neck. "Sorry that we couldn't get the top dog Nell down here herself, but she's busy with stuff. Pretty sure Rach said Nell was getting hitched."

"So Maxie's doin' well for himself, I reckon," Grit replies. Despite his uneasy smile, the bitterness shows in his twang as slow and easy as molasses. I take a drag, and Grit doesn't mind, used to it. Jake, unaware to the past history, nods emphatically, smiling.

Grit speaks up. "Yeah, truth be told I'm in the same boat. Old Vikingbeard didn't have time to make it out. He's got pet projects and harbored grudges to tend to. Figured to keep the peace it'd be best to send the one guy who actually felt like taking it easy."

Lash shrinks even further within her coat at the mention of Olaf, Blue Moon's Prime Minister whose hometown she obliterated during the Macro campaign out of a twisted game. I heard they're still not even close to done even over the last two years, so it makes sense why Grit would want to keep him away from the girl. Grit sees her tremble, finally looking like a scared little girl after fifteen years of being a defiant brat, and he puts on a smile. She doesn't react, but I do. His gesture's enough to make me move a couple of chairs over to her, stroking her hair.

"Take care, pretty miss," Grit tells me, adjusting his hat to shade his eyes and slowly lifting his legs up onto the empty chair.

Sonja is the last to speak. "Good evening, my fellow commanders. Originally the plan was to have my father attend this meeting; however, I requested to go in his stead so I may experience for myself the story of the first-hand account of this strange phenomena."

The transition is silent, before Grit says "Had I known Sonja was going to be here I'd have brought a damn dictionary." Sonja tries not to react, but I can see her smirk.

She's been called a mirror darkly of Lash, and it's clear to see why. She sits perfectly upright, wearing a formal skirt and button-up coat, both camo green, while Lash huddles into a ball under a messy trenchcoat with knee-high boots and an outfit that leaves more bare than covered. Still, they both have technical prowess and dangerous pragmatism that makes them more dangerous than their youth would imply. I'd probably not be far off to guess that Lash is the strange phenomena.

Lash looks up. "Hi," is all she squeaks out. It's clear that no one's overly comfortable with her presence, either because of who she was then or who she is now. Eagle also gives a quick, brisk wave before crossing his arms, leaving the floor for me.

"Thanks for coming," I say, looking up from Lash, who still looks like she'd rather be anywhere else. "I don't know how widespread the news has gotten, although my only basis for this is Javier." That gets a few laughs. Good. "However, I know this anomaly has become less so. Commander Sami has already conveyed news that this has affected Lockley Range in Orange Star. Today, myself and our Technological Expert Lash went out to a field observation to witness the phenomena ourselves. Unfortunately, we were unable to record it, but needless to say the rumors were real. Forestry has been growing at specific points right before our very eyes."

"Whoowee," Grit replies, and that's all that really can be said. I watch the others quietly process it. Jake looks at me with astonishment, Grit's grin looks painted on, and Sonja pretends that this doesn't fascinate her, looking straight ahead to the point that her eyes could bore holes through the wall. Lash peeps up from her little bubble, expectant.

I continue. "At the moment, we're playing it by ear. We have rudimentary recording going on in a mobile base camp from Javier's defensive post in northern Green Earth. Otherwise, we have a tangible string that connects the sites together. That is, all of the sites that have undergone this transformation were old, war-torn areas still recovering from the Macro Land Conflict."

Jake looks up at me. "Okay, so you think the love's gonna spread all over?"

I nod. "It's within the realm of possibility. Then again, at this rate, not much isn't."

Grit speaks. "Well, I'll tell you what, from what I know the flower fairy hasn't hit us up yet. However, we have been able to make a pretty damn snazzy effort on most of the buildup thanks to charitable donations from Sasha's company. I think the only city still struggling for a buildup due to being all but wiped off the grid is Chair-snag. Share-sneg. Chersnaig."

"Chersneg," I correct.

"What she said." Sixteen years of being a resident commander still hasn't taught non-native Grit anything about pronouncing Bluski better than a nonresident, but I know the only reason he bothered with the pronunciation was because he's again referring to Olaf's hometown, as if he expects Lash to not know what the city is. Indeed, she wraps the jacket around her completely.

"What I'm goin' on about," Grit finishes, "is that maybe if we haven't gotten a shot of magic, whether it be replanting the trees or doing other things even God drops his jaw at, whoever's doin' this is sentient enough to know where the supply and demand is. Hence this here concentration in Green Earth, which has seen better days to say the least."

Eagle glowers, as if it's an insult that we suffered the most in the Macro Conflict.

"No offense," Grit adds awkwardly, covering his face with his hat.

I know now is the time we need Lash to speak up, so I tap her on the head. Her groan is muffled by the jacket. "Having the advantage of someone once on the other side of the battlefield has been beneficial. Lash here has made a few theories she'd like to share with you all. If you would."

Lash doesn't react.

"If you would."

Eagle glares at her, arms further crossed. The crowd is restless and more than a little confused, save for Sonja, who continues to try her hardest not to care.

"Lash."

Slowly, she peeps out of the jacket like a child hiding under a pillow fort. "Uhm…"

"It's okay," I whisper, guiding her out. Lash finally opens the jacket just enough to stick her head out. We finally get a reaction from Sonja- it's just the raising of an eyebrow to most, but her eyes aren't chilly enough to freeze air anymore.

Lash sighs. "Okay, so… just hear me out, okay? I know you all hate me and whatever, and I can't really explain much because this is, like, a zillion years beyond science, so it's be just blurting out stuff I'm thinking. And I can't stop thinking about it, and there's nothing else to do right now, so I've just been a big ball of think."

As eloquent as ever, Lash.

The more she talks, the more animated she gets, sitting normally. "So, after the whole icky Macro business, we had the Omega Conflict. That's when that old geezer took over Sturm's old job and sucked the energy from the land. Heck, it was worse over there than we've ever seen. So where'd all that juice go?"

Grit shrugs.

"Hardy-har, scarecrow," she replies, glowering at him. "But the only thing I can think of is that when we first found out what Von Bolt's plan was, he was in this creepy building where there was this machine he was rejuicing from. It's the same place that got janked when the war ended and we took Von Bolt prisoner. The chair and all its energy was just left there as the building collapsed upon itself, but someone else got trapped in there too, just them and the chair."

Jake's eyes widen, as if Lash had awoken a lost memory.

"Hawke!" Eagle shouts in horror, as if awoken from a dream. Lash nods weakly, only setting him off worse. "If Hawke is the one behind this, how could the intents be anything but nefarious?"

"Calm down, Commander Eagle." Sonja of all people gets to silence Flyboy before I do. "These are simple theories, possibly improbable. Let her finish."

Eagle still looks peeved, but lets Lash continue.

"Maybe, like…" she falls silent again before stuttering, "I don't know. I mean… maybe it's just wishful thinking for me. But I know that if you had that chair, that chair alone could leave little droplets of energy that in a concentrated form could just make crazy nature stuff happen. I mean, Von Bolt didn't fart around. He had that stuff pumping in pure and unconcentrated. Like, with science even I don't get. So yeah, like I said, this whole Hawke saves the chair and restores the land idea is probably little more than just a bad fanfic, but I like it."

Jake, still looking caught in a flashback, finally speaks. "Damn. Like… wish I'd called or something, cause I remember Hawke saying he had one last job to do when the citadel collapsed. And, like, I didn't think it through because I thought the dude was pavement at that point, but I gotta wonder if he knew what he was doing."

"Hawke always knew what he was doing," Lash whispered.

The room gets uncomfortably silent. It's Sonja of all people who breaks it.

"Lash," she says, causing the girl to look her square in the eye. "This sort of energy functioned as a serum for life, both to the human body and theoretically to plant life. I also believe he used the same power to help his battle units function via the Obelisk and Crystal and power the Pipelines Black Hole constructed. If that's the case, is it possible that whoever used that energy could launch another offensive against the Allied Nations?"

The idea had honestly never crossed my mind. Jake tilts his head, Grit lifts his cap off of his eyes, and Eagle slams his fist on the table. Even Drake looks a little nervous. Lash leaps up, saying "but why would he do that? Like, he already built the forests up. Why would he do that first? We're all weaksauce right now, it'd be better to launch ghost units at us now."

"Has Hawke needed any motivation for his nefarious acts?" Eagle counters angrily. "If there is any threat to our soil at a time like this, we need to be mobilized!"

"You're not listening!" Lash screeches. "It doesn't make sense for him to do that!"

"I'm with her," Jake adds. "The Hawke in his final days was not the Hawke that went on the offensive. I could sense it. Like, I've talked about Moms before she died, like she was just waiting to pay her final tab. That's how Hawke was. Just defeated. It was weird."

"But now!" Eagle continues, and I look anxiously for a coat hook I can string him up by his goggles. "Now he has power! Now he has the ability to make whatever he wishes happen! We could be looking at war all over again, at such an inopportune time!"

"_Stow it, you damned fool!"_

Surprisingly it's not me who yells this, it's Drake, who gives him a glower so nasty even I feel uncomfortable. Everyone looks like they witnessed a murder, even Sonja, who has raised an eyebrow in surprise, which is basically a full mental breakdown in the mind of Sonja. Eagle looks disappointed, like he's speaking and no one else is listening, and turns away, dejected.

"May I continue?" Sonja asks.

"Please do," Drake responds, exhausted.

"Thank you. Again, the idea that Hawke has returned is not the concern, because we are unsure if the theory is even correct. Perhaps the energy was harnessed throughout another matter- after all, there's no telling if that was the only storage area. Regardless, the energy has managed to supply many forms of power- potentially limitless. My inclination is that if this branches out to other forms of power, then we have a lead. If it stays strictly botanical, it could be other phenomena just as otherworldly that we could research."

"Thank you," I say. "In conclusion, I want you all to be alert and vigilant. We'll establish contact with each other, and keep an eye out for future behavior. Prioritize any reconstructive efforts on the homefronts of course, but if anything suspicious happens, don't hesitate to let the other nation's defense know."

"Is that all?" Jake asks.

"...yes."

Jake shakes his head. "Yeah, I get this is important, but it seems like a waste of airfare to just talk about something that could have just been a conference call away."

"Still working on the comm system here, Lash is," Drake explains. "Poor Javier's holding the fort but we still need to back him up somehow. And there's only so much the girl can do with so little progress overall. Our phone communications are decent inland. Outland, it's a miracle Eagle can even send a chat message in a bottle to his sweetheart."

Eagle shrugs, not bothering to disagree.

"Also," Lash pops up. "Like, I was thinking about it when I was, like… hibernating. Might not be impossible to actually bring you to see for yourselves. Brahm's Port isn't far from here. Maybe we can drive back and actually see how the progress is."

"If it's an excuse for a party, I'm so in," Jake confirms. Sonja nods, always willing to do any length of unwanted socialization for the sake of research. Grit kicks the chair back, and buttons up his coat.

"Sounds like a fine idea," Drake replies. "Eagle, you?"

Eagle shakes his head. "Business I must attend to."

"At the rate you've been procrastinating, I'd imagine!"

Again, Eagle can only shrug.

I hand the lighter back to Grit. "Thanks for the smoke."

"You needed it, missy," he responds with a laugh, taking his cane and hitching himself out of the chair. "You looked like a snake ready to strike."

We follow everyone else out of the War Room. "At this rate, I think all of us are high strung by a disturbance in the system. Especially one so unexplainable."

"Naw," he replies, taking a seat in the main office next to my computer. "I'm pretty sure it's just y'all who are disturbed. Me? Just greatly amused."

"Amused." It's a statement, not a fact, because I'm not surprised.

He kicks his legs back as I log out of my computer. "The world's a funny place, sweetheart. Better to laugh with it than cry for it."

I shut the computer down. "I suppose." Seeing me walk away, Grit follows. "It's a nice idea, though, to say the least."

"What is?"

"The idea of an easy fix."

Grit laughs. "Honey, you don't have to tell me twice." He slowly lifts himself up, groaning. He looks exhausted from too much activity, so I help him up the rest of the way. "Thank you, sweetheart," he drawls, straightening his jacket.

I smile, hand on his shoulder. "Meet you downstairs. I'm gonna go check on the others."

He pulls his hat down and waves, leaving with "thank Christ your elevators still work or I'd've sent Sash."

I watch him leave my sight and turn back towards the War Room to make sure everyone's on their way out. I don't know when I became the Team Mom who felt the need to do that, but honestly I wouldn't want to end up left in here for longer than I need to be either. I peek my head over the door to see if we've left anyone behind.

Sonja's still in there, talking with Lash. They're too quiet for me to hear, but I can see Lash is near tears, and Sonja stands next to her, looking more comfortable than I've ever seen her. Lash is gesturing like she's attempting poorly to speak sign language. Sonja moves her hands in the "calm down" motion before finally giving up and placing her hands on her shoulders. I'm so alarmed by the development that I feel like I'm intruding, so I back out just as Lash settles down. Trying to pretend I was never here, I walk away as quietly as possible, taking a seat near the door and checking my phone. Nothing yet from Javier, not that I expected it. I set it on the arm of my chair, and it disappears from memory.

Eagle sees me waiting from his computer desk. To my surprise, he actually is doing work. "Can I help you?" he asks.

"Just waiting for the crew to empty out," I explain stiffly. He nods and turns back to the computer like nothing's going on. I close my eyes to find some inner peace, but seeing as my last solid visual was Lash looking two steps away from a breakdown, I can't quite get there.

"Eagle."

He turns back to me with a sideways glance.

"If we're going to get through this, you're going to have to be calmer than you are," I tell him. He looks resigned, but I'm not sure if it's because he's sick of being told this or he knows I'm right, so I take pity on him. "I'm worried too, but Lash is the key here, and she's still a teenager."

He nods, still looking disinterested, but as he turns back to the computer he looks the slightest bit remorseful. That's the closest I've ever seen him get to apologizing. He returns to his work just as Sonja and Lash leave, a suspicious distance apart. Lash still has the tracings of tears on her cheek, and Sonja looks entirely too flushed, but I don't address it.

"There you are," I say. "Just wanted to make sure we had the gang together."

Lash forces a smile. "Yep. We're here. Tada."

I clap her on the back. "Let's see if we can't get into our get-together with a little more optimism." I guide her to the elevator, Sonja following like a ghost I'm not entirely sure is real. As the doors close, Lash is still trying to smile, but is shaking like a leaf next to me. I look down at her, wondering if I'll ever quite understand her.

**Chapter length imbalance is a bitch. I haven't finished any other chapters in... quite some time, so it might be awhile for the fifth one. And if you both play certain Survivor ORGs while reading my fanfiction, a) you're an Earth Angel, Carby/Connor/Wendy if somehow you made it, and b) oops you're spoiled. That does mean I have a plan for this shit, I just gotta put it to paper. **

**There's a reason most of my fics are short fics. I have low impulse control. I chase shiny reviews. **


	5. The Quiet Ones

"Well, ain't this something."

The patch in Brahm's Port has finally reached a natural slowing point, but it's still a sight to behold. My truck's bed is packed with four of us. Sonja's slowly observing the plants as she works her way into the new forest, and I can vaguely see Lash's black hair sticking out in the distance. Drake made sure to buy a pack of beer, which he's split with Grit and I. As Grit pops the tab on his, he says "I'm pretty sure we're on longer on official military business."

Drake finishes his first bottle. "I'll drink to that."

"More like you drank to that," Grit catches, laughing sharply. Drake takes his bottle and prepares to toss it out of the truck, but I kick him in the shin before he finishes winding up. He gives a sheepish laugh, shrugging and tossing it towards the back of the trunk. It breaks in two, landing just in front of Jake, who clearly only seems to be in the trunk to accommodate our company.

"Not much better," I conclude.

"S'all good," Jake mumbles, climbing out of the bed and hopping onto the grass. "Think I'll go take a walk." He takes his bottle of water from the side of the truck and is out of sight.

Grit watches him as he trails away into the new world. "Reckon I might join him soon," he says. "See this for myself."

"Need a hand?" I ask, leaving my half-finished beer in the bed.

He reaches for his cane. "Need, not really. But I'd enjoy one." He uses his cane to settle onto the ground, and I join him. He winces again, but he settles onto his feet.

"Please don't drink my beer," I ask Drake. Knowingly, he laughs, before sitting up to watch us go, or looking into the distance. I can't tell.

I keep time next to him as we slowly trudge through the grass. It's up above my knee now. I have my arm around his back to stabilize him. I think I have a feeling of why he's returned the favor but I don't comment on it. "How's your leg doing?"

"Eh…" He thinks about his words. "I think it's trying to escape my stupid-ass body."

I shake my head, quietly laughing. "If your leg wanted to split town it'd have done so long before you shot it."

"You'd think it'd have skedaddled out of there the second I held a vodka bottle and a gun at the same time," he adds. "I'm just hopin' I've peaked on the stupidest shit I've ever done meter now, otherwise we've got a few decades I ain't lookin' forward to."

"Entirely from dark amusement, I am," I respond.

"Amusement," he repeats. Not a question. He's smiling, because dry, sarcastic humor about how much life sucks is our way of showing affection. We make our way through the thin brush and into the trees, and Grit reacts as if he just now remembered where he was.

"Well I'll be damned," he says, staring up. Already the canopy has stretched higher than my eye can reach. He taps the side of it with his cane, lighting up as it connects. "It's real," he confirms, awestruck.

I nod, grinning. Grit continues acting like he's seen God, and I find it charming, because I bet that's how I looked to anyone who'd have seen me earlier today. He doesn't speak much, which is disconcerting for Grit, but he keeps walking through the bush, and I follow, his response as fascinating to me as the brave new world around us. Trees, flowers, plants, all once so mundane, now so miraculous, dwarfing both of us. I don't know for sure if he's crying until he finally tears his eyes from the scenery and back towards me. He's not crying, but if he stays any longer I think even he knows he's gonna break.

"Mighty fine," he confirms, smiling. "Never thought I'd see the day."

I nod, taking his hand again, and we slowly return to the truck. We don't say anything. Nothing needs to be said. Time disappears around us for awhile, and it's just the two of us hand in hand like innocent schoolchildren, trying to appear cooler than we are, both of our palms sweaty as the world fills us with awe, and whether or not we want to admit it, anxiety.

When we get back to the truck, Sonja and Lash have both returned to the nearby vicinity, both observing near microscopic ants already having burrowed into the ground. Drake's kicked back in the bed of the truck, inching closer to sleep. Jake's got his water in his hand, looking out over the stars, and I make a mental note to buy the poor kid a soda later. Grit claps me on the shoulder, saying "thank you for the lovely walk, ma'am." I smirk, but am not above blushing.

Jake notices my return first, with a quick glance and smile before returning back to the stars. I'm curious as to what's on his mind. It's always nice to talk to the others, but Jake was always a kid that had a special place in my heart. Growing up the second child with three brothers was a very unique experience for me, although each of the three of them would say I'm the most debonair, masculine sibling- a blessing and a curse. Getting to know Jake, it didn't take long for him to become brother number four. Christ, I haven't talked to any of my brothers in ages, so I figure I should talk to him. I awkwardly maneuver around Drake's meditative-slash-drunk form and hop on the edge of the truck bed with him. I notice first off that he's no longer looking towards the trees surrounding us, but the stars above us.

"Whatcha looking at?" I've never been one to mince words.

He doesn't turn towards me, but seems startled out of his thoughts. "Oh…" He thinks for a moment, before admitting "actually, nothing. Weird."

I shrug. "Well, if you're looking at nothing, you're thinking a hell of a lot of something."

He nods. "Yeah, probably am. Although it's just my mind babbling at this rate. Lots of static, a few words every now and again."

I don't prod him. It's Jake. The words will come out before he can stop them anyhow. I kick my legs slightly back and forth, feeling a little fuzzy; buzzed, thankfully not drunk.

"Sorry about the drinks," I say. "Drake just had a six-pack on him. After that, I didn't really think."

Jake smiles. "Just let me drive home and we're good."

I nod, it's for the best regardless. Jake's always been good behind the wheel regardless, although he's prone to radio stations I could do without.

Without warning, his thoughts finally escape, breaking a silence I was barely aware lasted nearly a minute. "I'm just thinkin', ya know," he says. "With the idea of Hawke bein' behind this. It seems too good to be true, but it's also something I could see happening. But if it is Hawke, I don't know what he expects to happen when he's done."

My _Days Not Thinking About Hawke _counter remains at zero, and I realize that I haven't really taken his involvement in this into account as any more than just being a theory of Lash's. I can't not think negatively about Hawke, even when I try, but Jake has always been more accepting than I, and much more naive.

Still, whatever my opinions are on it, I may as well form them concretely.

"I'm not really worried about him," I admit, kicking what's left of Drake's wreckage with the bottle. "I mean-"

I'm interrupted by my peripheral view where Drake stirs awake for a few moments with an awkward grin, snug in his ill-fitting suit and tie. He uses his foot to scrape it out of the way, and I keep thinking as the bottles scrape against the bed. As they hit the grass, they take my political answers with them, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, besieged by thoughts.

I really don't know what to think, but now Jake's waiting on an answer.

"Anyway," I continue. "Yeah, Hawke… I can't say I care. Sorry kid."

He shrugs. "Hawke's the weird variable here. I guess I just came into the game too late to have really been burnt by him. But I think someone's gotta keep him in mind, and I think if I'm the only one who cares to…"

"It's something," I finish.

"And it's something I know I can do."

I smile, because I don't doubt it. Beneath his house music and his hoodie, I can't count on another CO in the allied nations to care about the human factor to the extent that Jake does. He's probably the right age for it- not too young to think the world revolves around you, not too old to think that you're the only one looking out for you. I don't remember what it's like to have a mind like that, so I decide to pick his. "How do you think Hawke being involved changes things?"

He thinks for a moment. "I get the feeling that most everyone would be happy to get him out of their hair. Up until now we thought he was a pancake with Von Bolt. And I think there's only a few people who I know who'd act differently around him. Besides me, I think there are two."

I scan through the names in my mental rolodex. "One's Lash, right? She cares too much?"

Jake nods. "Yeah, they both defected together. That was a big deal for both of them. Lash, she clearly cares a lot about him. I'm cool with Hawke, but it's more ambivalent. Lash had a friend in the dude and she lost someone close to her, and I don't think anyone else can say that."

"So if Lash is the only one who cares about him, but we aren't fond of him either…"

"I think someone doesn't really care one way or the other."

That has me mystified- I can't think of anyone I know that doesn't care. I think if you don't care about what you're doing, that's when as a CO you should be worried. I'm still peeling through my mental rolodex- Olaf cares immensely as a Prime Minister (and given that Lash is involved, this concerns me), and as an imperial emperor Kanbei cares intensely.

"I have no clue who wouldn't ca-"

Oh, but I do.

She's sitting with Lash next to an anthill. I'd swear on my life and my career that ants hadn't seen this place in a good few years before tonight, but there they are, pouring out like nothing's changed. They're all running past the two observing them- one's jumping up and down in excitement, finally living the gleeful, innocent life of a kid. The other is too busy observing them to have any tangible reaction, even as the ants use her as a monument (which for me would be the end of these ants at Brahm's Port).

Jake looks at me and looks over at Sonja. It's the look of someone who can't quite understand the mind of another human being.

So quietly even I can barely hear, as if he's too embarrassed to admit this, he whispers "I'm worried about her. What she can do."

I nod, knees at my chest. "Point taken." For some odd reason, I'm just as cautious. 

Jake relaxes, and leans against the truck. "But hey," he says absentmindedly. "Maybe I'm just way off and Hawke's not at all involved in this." As he reclines, Grit walks back to the truck, cane and all. I see the glimmer of a tear on his eye but do us both the kindness of not acknowledging it. Jake finishes with "Could be nice."

It'd be nice, but now that the variable's been introduced, you'd have better odds cutting down every tree in the forest with Drake's broken beer bottle than to never cross paths with Hawke again.

Next thing I know, Grit's climbed up to the bed of the truck and I feel his presence next to me. It's nice, and I let it be. It's the closest thing to actual rest I've experienced in a fair amount of time. He at one point whispers "It's lovely out there", but my eyes are too closed to see it one last time.

Time passes by in a blur. I'm never quite asleep- while Grit's snoring lightly next to me. I eventually feel the truck decompress as Jake maneuvers his way out of bed and into the cab. There's some talking going on between him and the others, but eventually I feel Lash and Sonja sit next to me- Lash is talking a mile a minute and it's a miracle Grit doesn't wake up, but as she plops down right across from me I feel Sonja quietly take a steadier seat. Next thing I know, the truck's on, and we're heading out. All five of us save Jake are in the bed, either chatting up a storm, napping, or in my case- me, not doing anything except enjoying every moment I'm not entirely conscious.

My attention isn't sparked again until suddenly Lash starts whispering. I figure at first that she's just being courteous to those napping, but then I remember- Lash doesn't whisper. Ever. I tried teaching her manners during the last war, of anyone I should know this. I don't open my eyes, playing dead, but I hear her continue to whisper and try and focus on it. Not easy to do with this big lug snoring in one ear, but the other one's fine.

I hear Lash whispering more- if you can call it that- and Sonja trying to hush her in a way much too frantic for Sonja. I can't make too many words out in the hubbub- I think I hear some words like plant and Chersneg and fix, but I could just be making them up in my little game of detective. I start to fade out again before I look too awake and aware, when I hear three words that nearly have me leaping out of the truck bed. My arm's on Grit's bad leg and it's a wonder I don't wake him up and re-break his leg.

"He'll be there."

I keep my eyes closed, trying to rationalize ways that this isn't what I think it means, and I come up empty. If I wasn't exhausted before, I sure am now. Even with everything Jake said, this still comes out of left field for me.

Things just got a whole lot harder.


End file.
